All This for a Simple Shower
by Julia9
Summary: *Complete* Set mid-S7, when Buffy's house is filled with Potential Slayers, reformed baddies and (of course) the Sccobies. What happens when there's one shower for an entire army....Written in response to a challenge from Kantayra’s site…


Orange and pink clouds rise over the horizon, long rays of sunlight that chased away the shadows of night. The world is silent; it's too early for the middle-class citizens of Sunnydale to get up for work, too late for the demonic population to be skulking through the streets. Five am, the perfect moment between sleep and awake, the ideal instant between night and day. It's a time when one can lie in bed and savor the dawning of a new day, before actually having to confront the harsh realities of life. That is, unless one lived in a small house on Revello Drive.  
  
Buffy Summers grimaced when the sound of running water jarred her from her fitful dreamless sleep. "Who the hell takes a shower this early," she mumbled, staring bleary-eyed at the red numbers of her digital clock. It read 5:02, the little dot in the left corner signifying morning. Snapping off her alarm before it could blare a relentless stream of pop music, Buffy swung her feet down onto the carpeted floor. She was careful to avoid the three potential slayers who were scattered around her bed, two more lined the entrance to her closet and one was curled up in the space beside her dresser. "Seven girls in one bedroom," she growled, "I've really got to talk to someone about building more rooms onto this house."  
  
As she padded down the hall, Buffy thought about how many people were actually living in her house. The last time she had counted, there were twenty-three potential slayers, five Scoobies, one Andrew and Spike, bringing the grand total to thirty-one people, if she counted herself. They were all crammed into a house that was designed to fit a family of four. There were six potentials in her room, four in Dawn's room, nine in the master bedroom and the rest were scattered throughout the living room and the dining room. Downstairs, Xander, Andrew and Giles were sharing the dank basement with Spike. Despite the insane amount of people living at 1630 Revello Drive, life seemed to have fallen back into some kind of routine; everything was as normal as it could be, with the ultimate battle against the First Evil looming in the not-so-distant future.  
  
The shower had just shut off when Buffy reached the closed bathroom door. She knocked twice, "are you almost done," she called, not knowing who was in there. The only thing she knew was that when more then twenty girls were forced to share one shower, chaos ensued. Tapping her foot impatiently, Buffy reached for the knob, sure that one of the teenage potentials was just taking forever in front of the mirror. She leapt back in shock when the door swung open to reveal Spike, a navy blue towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Buffy squeaked in embarrassment, her face flushing red as she looked at the floor, the wall, the sink, anywhere except her former lover's half-naked body. Chuckling softly, Spike brushed past Buffy, ignoring her flaming face, "shower's free."  
  
She let out a shaky breath, closing the door behind her. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her cheeks were still candy apple red; no matter what happened between her and Spike, the bleached blonde vampire still had the ability to turn her insides to mush with a simple smirk. Turning on the taps, she scowled at the icy water pouring out of the showerhead. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken a hot shower; with so many people sharing the bathroom it was a miracle that there was still water in the tank. Buffy sighed, reaching for her half-empty bottle of shampoo, ignoring the voices outside the closed door. Raising her voice, she yelled in the direction of the hallway, "I just got in here! Wait five minutes!" The soap shot out of her hands, the slippery blue bar sailing across the shower. Swearing under her breath, Buffy reached outside the shower curtain to retrieve the soap that had somehow landed on the tiled floor. "Gotcha," she said, closing her fingers around the bar as she brought her arm back under the spray. Her eyes fell on a person standing next to the sink, apparently frozen to the spot at the sight of a tanned arm reaching out from behind the plastic arm.  
  
Buffy shrieked, not expecting to see anyone in the bathroom. Her shriek caused Andrew to jump three feet in the air, yelping like someone had jabbed him with a cattle prod. "Andrew," Buffy yelled, "what are you doing? I'm in the shower! Get out!" He stuttered, transfixed by the sight before him. Buffy had forgotten to pull the shower curtain around her torso and had unintentionally bared her chest to the sci-fi geek. She shrieked again, wrapping the plastic around her body, shooting daggers at Andrew. "Get the hell out," she screamed, finally breaking through his stupor. Mumbling apologies, he hurriedly backed out of the bathroom, nearly tripping over the area rugs in his haste. "Ohmigod," Buffy breathed, "can this day get any worse?" Shutting off the water, Buffy wrapped a towel around her body, mumbling something about moving into a hotel.  
  
Opening the bathroom door, she yelled into the quiet house, "shower's free!" Almost instantly a cacophony female voices rose in excitement, as potential slayers appeared in the hallways. "Not my problem," Buffy muttered as the six girls squabbled over who was next in line. In the midst of the arguing, Dawn breezed into the bathroom from the other end of the hallway, locking the door behind her. "My turn," she sang out, as the voices of the potentials rose to an even higher octave, their protesting howls filling the narrow hallway. Inside her room, Buffy grabbed her clothes out of the dresser, not really caring if she stepped on any of the sleeping girls. After her encounter with Spike and then Andrew's invasion of her privacy, the petite Slayer was not in the mood to be nice.  
  
She shimmied into her favorite low-rise jeans and rifled through her drawers for a tank top, ignoring the noise outside her door. Pulling the emerald-green top over her head, Buffy reached for a clip to pin up her tresses. There was no way she was going to brave the bathroom in search of a hairdryer, she could deal with wet hair. Slipping her feet into black sandals, she cautiously opened her bedroom door, peeking around for anyone jetting through the hall in a towel. When she couldn't see anyone, Buffy made her way downstairs, the conversations in the kitchen becoming louder as she moved through the foyer.  
  
Walking into the kitchen, she opened her mouth to chirp an overly cheerful greeting to a sleepy Willow who was nursing a steaming cup of coffee. Before she could say anything, a high-pitched shriek came from upstairs, followed by a string of British curses. "For the love of God, does a closed door mean nothing in this house," the voice bellowed, sounding nothing like a mild-mannered librarian; the shouts were filled with a Ripper-like fury that sent Buffy shooting worried glances at the ceiling. "Wonder who that was," she mused, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Her answer came gliding down the stairs; Anya breezed into the kitchen, a sulk marring her face. "Giles kicked me out of the bathroom," she pouted, leaning against the door jam, "and all I wanted was to brush my teeth. This is getting ridiculous." Willow nodded sympathetically, "I know what you mean. Last night I was shaving my legs when Kennedy walked in. Talk about a psycho movie moment. I don't think I've had this many Band-Aids on my shins since the eighth grade."  
  
Shaking her head, Buffy leaned against the center island. "I think my shower experience takes the cake. I walked in on Spike when he was in a towel and Andrew interrupted my shower time. I think I gave the poor guy a heart attack." Anya nodded empathetically, "he probably thought you were Spike." Wrinkling her nose, Buffy locked eyes with Willow who made a gagging sound. The mental picture of Andrew spying on Spike in the shower was just beyond gross; there was something about the wannabe-evil weasel that gave Buffy a major case of the wiggins. Not to mention the fact that she didn't want to think about anyone ogling Spike in the shower. Of course I wouldn't mind catching a glimpse of him, she thought as her mind wandered to the mental picture she had snapped of him in a navy towel. Bad Buffy, she mentally chastised herself, I shouldn't be thinking about Spike and definitely not about naked Spike.  
  
Giles entered the kitchen, an angry scowl causing thick lines between his eyes. "In the future, could everyone please knock before opening the bloody bathroom door," he growled, "some people would like to take a shower without a constant series of interruptions." Anya looked up from the table, "I don't see why you're so annoyed," she pouted, sounding like a petulant child. Brightening, she continued, "you seem like a very attractive man, especially for someone your age." Giles' eyes bulged out, his mouth tightening into a thin line. "Anya," he snapped, "that's quite enough!" Dawn crushed herself against the hallway wall as Giles stormed past, ripping his glasses savagely off his face. He stomped out the front door, muttering something unintelligible that didn't sound too positive.  
  
The sound of water running through the pipes once again filled the kitchen. Willow looked up from her coffee, "how many more people are still in line," she asked. Shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, Dawn flipped her hair sassily, "fifteen, last time I checked." The red hair moaned quietly, "great. Only another three hours of yelling before everyone's done. And then we get to start this all over again." Amanda moaned loudly as she entered the kitchen, followed by Rona and Kennedy, "I still haven't gotten a shower yet," she complained. Rona's dark eyes flickered with laughter, "at least you didn't have to get up at six am only to lose shower rights to Dawn." Despite being tired her voice was filled with laughter, Rona seemed to be one of the more easy-going potential slayers. Kennedy made a tsking sound, her tongue ring clicking against her front teeth, "we're preparing for a battle," she said disdainfully, "we shouldn't be worrying about showers."  
  
As if on cue, another shriek sounded from upstairs followed by a loud slam of the bathroom door. Buffy sighed in exasperation, "I don't even want guess who." The three potentials exchanged questioning looks with Dawn, they were all trying to figure out whose morning freeze time had been interrupted. A dripping wet Vi appeared in the kitchen, her thick bathrobe wrapped tightly around her slender body. "That's it," she shrieked, practically hysterical, "I can't deal with this anymore." Exhaling loudly, Anya glared at the teen, "who walked in you," she asked, not really caring. The girl's answer caused the former vengeance demon to leap out of her chair, screaming at the top of her lungs for her ex-fiancée to get downstairs. "So, Xander," Amanda said, her eyes twinkling with questions, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, "rough break." If possible, Vi got even more flustered, snapping angrily, "you try taking a shower when the door isn't completely closed. Especially because I thought it was and decided to get out of the shower without grabbing a towel first. Mortification much?!"  
  
The entire kitchen was soon filled with people, everyone protesting the bathroom situation. Giles was gesturing wildly with his glasses ranting about Americans and their lack of manners, while Xander was trying to blend into the doorframe as Anya continued to upbraid him for "lurking in the upstairs hallway". All of the potential slayers decided that this was their perfect opportunity to unleash the patented brand of teenage whining that sent even the most caring parents running for cover. The cacophony of voices filled the small room until Buffy yelled, "that's enough!"  
  
Holding up her hands, Buffy interrupted the inevitable fury of questions threatening to descend upon her. "I get it," she said, "shower privacy is a problem. And I think I have a solution." She moved towards the basement door, yelling down the stairs, "Spike! Give me your car keys, I have to go to the store." The bleached blonde vampire appeared at the foot of the stairs, "there is no way in hell you are driving my car Slayer!" Crossing her arms over her chest, Buffy smiled smugly, "fine. Then I can't go to the hardware store to buy a lock for the bathroom door." Spike grunted, "that's fine. Doesn't bother me." Her eyes twinkled in self-satisfaction as Buffy delivered the last line of her argument. "Okay. Just don't come complaining to me when Xander walks in on you naked. Or when Andrew decides to ignore the closed door and sneaks a peek at you behind the curtain."  
  
She could hear his heavy boots clomping up the stairs before she even finished the sentence. "Here, take the bloody keys, just go get the lock," Spike said, panting unnecessarily. Buffy took the keys triumphantly, her hips swinging in self-satisfaction as she grabbed her purse from the hallway table; Spike watched her walk out the door, shaking his head ruefully. "Anything's better then having to watch out for those wankers when I'm in the shower. It's sad how far a man will go to get a bloody moment's peace." Giles appeared beside him, nodding in agreement. "That's true but I still wouldn't have given her your car keys." Spike's face fell open in shock as the Desoto's tires squealed loudly. He dashed to the window but his archaic black tank had already disappeared down the street in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes. "Aw.bloody hell," he muttered dejectedly. 


End file.
